


What Brings Us Home

by TempestRising



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adoption, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Hiatus fic, James is a sweetheart, Niall needs a hug, if that makes sense, non-canon-canon, orphan!au, zayn comes back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-11-17 09:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestRising/pseuds/TempestRising
Summary: Niall grew up in an orphanage and had to run away to go to the X-Factor audition. But that's all in the past. Now they're coming up to the last days of One Direction, and no one knows what's going to happen to Niall.Or: There's some misunderstandings, the boys help Niall see the light, and everyone gets a happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

_let all go – the_  
_big small middling_  
_tall bigger really_  
_the biggest and all_  
_things – let all go_  
_dear_

__

__

_so comes love_ ****

**ee cummings**

  
.***.

It was after "Drag Me Down" and "Infinity" and "Perfect" and it was one of the last shows and Niall was sat with Louis and Liam, chatting while watching Harry entertain the crowd like there was nothing he'd rather be doing, and there was the sign. It was a tired old sign, one that Niall had seen thousands of times, tens of thousands of times. "I'll adopt you, Niall!" Four exclamation points, and Louis rolled his eyes at it and Liam shook his head and Niall smiled and since it was close enough, beckoned, and it was brought on stage with one of the thousands of pens and he signed it.

Since the X-Factor it seemed like everyone on Earth had offered to adopt Niall, but of course no one was serious. James Corden had sat down Niall in 2012, when he asked if Niall would be a part of the bridal party, and Niall told the truth. He said that weddings were for family, and Niall was no one's family. And James said well, do you want a family? With that smile and laugh and Niall said that he'd given up on being adopted when he was eleven and went to school and stopped being cute. No one wants eighteen-year-old baggage.

Every interview at the beginning asked about it, about his birth parents (left him on the stoop of a church the day he was born) about the orphanages he'd grown up in (one run by the Sisters of Mercy, whom he adored, and one run by the state, which he'd barely tolerated, running away four times, the last one to the X-Factor auditions. He made it sound carefree, a teenage shenanigan, and after a while people just stopped asking.)

But it didn't stop the girls from holding up the signs. I'll adopt you. Like it was that easy.

At one point he thought maybe one of the boys - but no. This band relationship was complicated enough without Niall saying that he wished Liam's parents would just adopt him already, instead of joking about it. And then Zayn left, and it changed everything. He hadn't wanted that for himself, anyway, not for a long time, not since he was little and started to figure out that other kids had moms and dads and he had nuns and no one else.

After the show, he and Harry slouched in a car. "Going out?" Niall asked.

"No. I think Louis's gonna try, though. We're leaving in what, three hours? And I'm," Harry yawned, "so tired."

"No kidding?" Niall tried to smile and yawned, too. "I feel like all we've been doing is sleeping. We're in the bloody UK. We should -"

"Sleep," Harry finished with a mumble, tipping his head back and stretching his whole body, like a big cat, eyes scrunched closed.

"Only a week left," Niall said as Harry tried to find a comfortable position. The screams outside had started and Niall, for the billionth time, wondered if he was going deaf.

Harry brought his hand down on Niall's shoulder. "A week of this, and then promo, and more performances, and Liam wants to go back to Mexico City."

"And then -"

"And then we're free as birds," Harry sing-songed. He looked at Niall.

Niall put a hand on Harry's hair, his long, long hair, and then slipped it down to Harry's neck and pulled him close. Liam and Louis were pulling a parent double act on both of them, but Niall worried only about Harry. He'd decided, when Louis first mentioned the idea of One Direction taking a break, that he'd go with whatever Harry said. Harry, who was the most visible of them, their de-facto frontman, who was the youngest of them but perhaps the first to grow up, was the person whose heart most needed to be in the band. And if it wasn't? Then they take a break, and reconvene in a year.

It wasn't. Harry had looked so relieved, had grabbed Louis's hand, as if he was so, so happy he didn't have to bring it up first.

So Niall voted for the break.

Seeing Harry like this, stretched thin, his face red and flashing white from the neon and street lamps, confirmed the need to be away for a while.

He brought their foreheads together. "You alright?" Harry asked.

"Mhmm. I don't know if I need to work out or collapse onto the bed."

"Maybe beer?"

"Maybe." Niall fluffed Harry's hair absent-mindedly, pulling away.

"Niall," Harry began, then stopped. He was looking at Niall but the Irish boy couldn't read his expression in the dim light. "Nevermind," Harry said, just as quickly.

"What?"

"What will you do, if we stop?"

Harry looked so worried that Niall grinned, wanted to tell him how misplaced the concern was, that Louis and Liam had already cornered him right after they voted for the break, that it didn't matter, anyway, he was twenty-two and wore his money like a shield. "When we stop, Haz, I'm gonna proper relax, like we've been talking about."

"No. We've been talking about spending time with our families." Harry said this patiently, like he'd been waiting for a time to explain it. "And my mum texted me, and I wanted to remind you - they're still your families."

Niall smiled and didn't have the heart to tell Harry that he'd heard that before.

When he was twelve, there was an adoption day in the county, and Niall was dutifully shuffled there with the others. He'd spent his precious, cute childhood slipping the room to play footie, but at twelve he was at boarding school that doubled as the state run orphanage and he was so miserable that he could feel himself wilting, like a plant left just outside of the sun. So he answered questions politely and said that yes, he cooked, and of course he knew how to tidy, and he was sure he could pick up the basics of farming.

He was a spitfire of a kid, and halfway through the day he was picked up by the Learys.

The Learys were even more pious than Niall had been raised, spending both before and after dinner on family prayers. There was square, serious Matthias Leary who made his wife and daughters cower at just a glare, and the women. Sarah, Maria, Laura. They did the cooking and the cleaning and smiled at him and hugged him and the girls, Maria and Laura, were four and six, and climbed into Niall's bed to escape the nightmares, and he told them all the stories he'd learned, David and Goliath, Goldilocks, The Little Mermaid. He sang snatches of songs and spoke with his hands and the girls giggled, curled around each other like puppies.

After one week he was dropped back off at the orphanage. He didn't even get to say goodbye to the children.

One Direction was not like being a twelve year old orphan. He lied for his band mates. He'd die for them, if the need ever arose. But they were not family. Family were the people you didn't have to perform for, he thought. The ones who you could be mad at and argue with and not speak to for days, weeks, months on end, and when you turned up at the house unannounced your key always fit into the lock.

And the boys just weren't that.

They traveled that night, and on the bus Harry slept as soon as his head touched his pillow and Niall cleaned. It was the first way he learned how to show affection, beating the nuns' erasers and tidying their classrooms. In the state-run school, he'd clean his dorm room to express his happiness with his roommate, and he'd clean the kitchen at night, thinking of the other boys using it in the morning, taking out a cup that was washed and dried, a rare clean thing in their lives. He cleaned for the boys since the beginning, not knowing how to stop. He washed dishes and clothes and smoothed bedspreads long after they could all easily afford maids. They had all come from rather rough-and-tumble backrounds, and they thanked him every time.

He cleaned as Harry slept, and tried not to think of next year.

Maybe he'd go backpacking. He'd like to really properly see these places, the remote places, the ones where his ears would be ringing not with screams but with silence. And he should properly get into the finances of his charity, the one he started so that school-aged Irish orphans would have safe places to stay. He wanted to expand it to the UK, particularly London where he'd seen too many teenaged runaways for his liking. Then golfing. Harry had promised to golf with him, and put up a proper fight in he brackets.

Anything to not face another empty house.

He was getting too old to be a sympathetic orphan, and between Zayn leaving the hiatus, the questions how he "coped without a support system" that had been mainstays since the beginning had disappeared. He was twenty-two and had many more millions of dollars that he had ever dreamed of. Surely he'd outgrown the need for a mother and a father.

In many ways he had, Niall reminded himself as he finished cleaning every surface and had to go to bed, his hands no longer busy. He didn't worry about a place to sleep. He didn't worry about food. He didn't worry about whether or not he'd get medical attention, if he needed it. But he didn't have that unconditional thing. That sure thing.

He brooded until he fell asleep. Nighttime was the only time for these thoughts. In the morning he had to be Niall, the one who had everything together, because the break was approaching and no one was really prepared for it. This wasn't about him. Louis's mother had gotten suddenly and frighteningly sick, and he used Liam's sudden single-ness as an excuse to get out on the town as often as possible, both using the bass lines of club music to fill their heads. Harry was sick and singing anyway, sleeping any time he was left alone for ten minutes. They all had other things to worry about, and Niall was determined not to be one of them.

By the time he woke up, they were parked somewhere entirely new. He blinked and wondered why he'd woken up before dawn greyed the window. "Niall," Liam's voice as recognizable as his own. "Got a cuppa if you want it."

"I want to sleep."

"Our bus blew a tire. But look. Look out the window."

Niall rolled on his side instead, blinking at Louis, bent over Harry's bed and coaxing the youngest upright, pressing the cup into his hand. "You alright?" Niall asked.

"Fine. They're fixing it. There's like fifteen other tires but apparently you actually need all of them."

Niall smiled into his pillow. "Did you invade our bus to tell us we need to see the sunrise?"

"We don't have much time left." Liam pulled Niall to his feet, and they were outside.

The busses had stopped on a deserted morning road, the convoy full of people getting out and stretching, the men going over to the bus to jack up the tire and chat, catering making coffee, Lou letting Lux play in the sparse, scraggly grass. But Liam kept moving, to the other side of the busses, stopping abruptly.

It wasn't a cliff, exactly, more of a steep hill that ended in rocks and rocks and then ocean. The smell of salt and fish and something else, adventure and far-off places, wafted up to Niall. He glanced at Liam, who had a hand cupped over his eyes, looking out like an old sea-captain. Harry and Louis came around the other side of the bus, holding identical cups of tea. "It smells like Japan," Harry said, his voice loud and catching over the wind.

Niall realized he was right. They'd spent a night in Osaka, the five of them (it had been five of them, then) spending the night in a towering hotel and the early hours of the morning just outside the city, throwing rocks into the ocean.

"It smells like Brighton," Louis corrected. "Mum used to take me and the girls. We'd get fish and sit on the beach. In October, you know, after the crowds left. We found the money, every year, and mum would find the little tide pools, you know? The little fish swimming around."

"When I was in school," Niall chipped in, "I ran away to a beach, once. Irish beaches are better than this, of course. The water is clear, and green."

"Of course it's green," Liam muttered to no one in particular. "I was waiting for him to say green."

"I took this boat," Niall said. He hadn't thought of that night in years, of being in the chilly, damp school where he boarded with too many other boys, all of them orphans and cramped together. He slept with the rest of the choir, and they'd sing hymns, or traditional Irish songs, Niall's Gaelic more confident then the rest. He'd snuck out the window and tripped the five miles down to the beach, the moon full and heavy in the Eastern sky. His feet chaffing through worn, cheap shoes. He'd wanted to get away from too little food and too many fists, but it was only after he found the dingy idling by the dock that he realized he didn't have anywhere to go too. He'd floated for a while near the shore, looking out over the ocean that was dark, dark as the sky, dark as space and the ache Niall held in his chest at the thought of going back there.

He felt the stares of Liam and Louis and Harry and he smiled. It wasn't a fake smile. He was far, far away from the life of that lonely orphan in the drafty room. He had shoes that were sturdy and new.

Louis's hand on his shoulder. "You all right, Annie?"

He'd gotten the name Annie years and years ago, on X-Factor. He'd lied during the first round, had gotten to the auditions with Sister Mary Margaret out of her habit, signing as his mother. The young nun (who Niall used to, secretly, pretend was his mother) hugged him when he got through to bootcamp. And then he got put in with the boys, and he couldn't lie anymore, all of them at Harry's step-dad's bungalow, talking about their pasts, and two nights in the eyes had turned to Niall, who cleared his throat, feeling small and exposed. "I-" he began, cutting himself off. He had been so afraid of their reactions that he drew himself into a tight ball, hands firmly under knees to stop them from shaking. "I'm an orphan."

Louis first called him Annie on the old stairs, during the Xtra Factor, and it stuck. It became his pet name, and the band tended to be standoffish when others tried to call Niall their favorite nickname. Between the five of them it was a gentle ribbing on the fact that Niall was bright and sunny and could sing, like that curly American orphan. Publicly, it was an omen for the "parents" that came out of the woodwork.

"Fine," Niall said, wrenching away from the old memories of those fake parents who wanted nothing more than a part of the One Direction profits, the men and women turning up and claiming he was theirs, and after the first couple of times Niall refused to get his hopes up. "It's nothing. Beautiful sunrise."

Harry had finished his tea and had passed the mug off to Liam so he could put up his long, long hair. "I really wish, Ni, that since we're coming to the end of this, that, you'd make some time to start some legal ramifications."

He said it steadily, like he'd said the words a dozen dozen times before, and Niall shook his head, as he'd done every time. "It's complicated."

When the boys had first heard about the often neglectful and sometimes cruel school he'd been subjected to since he'd turned eleven, they'd been livid, but Niall met their ire calmly. He was doing everything in his power to give the orphans he'd left behind more power, but to sue the school would be condemning the students there to uncertainty if there weren't enough beds for them elsewhere.

"Oh, Annie," Louis slung an arm around his shoulders. Behind them there was a cheer as the ten people crowded around the tire had managed to lift and replace it, and calls for everyone to get back, to keep moving. "I worry about you, you know. And - we - we wanted to let you know. That a hiatus from this doesn't mean a hiatus from us. We're still your family, even if we don't all sleep on the same bus every night."

Niall grinned and gently removed the arm, leading the way back to the busses.

He'd been reminded over and over that he was no longer that boy who'd run away from school the final time, ending up on the stoop of the church he'd been left on as a baby, begging Sister Mary-Anne to bring him to the X-Factor audition in Dublin, offering to pay with anything, everything he had for a hope and a prayer of a better life. He was no longer the boy who used to stuff food in his pockets, in his suitcase, folding napkins around sandwiches, fruit, cookies to bring back to the other boys during the breaks on X-Factor. He had the new boys, now, and a collection of friends and mentors and even fans who would never, ever let him be that scared boy floating on the vast ocean, so hungry it was like a physical entity, a void threatening to swallow him whole.

And he had money, money like a suit of armor, carefully invested and tucked away in property and people and banks, and it was his, every penny.

They were on the bus for another hour but this time it was all four of them on one bus. Louis busied himself making more tea, never fully awake until at least his third cup. Harry stretched out on the couch this time, a pillow over his face. Liam watched him from a chair as the sensible one of them went through his emails and texts of the day.

"You know it won't be like when Zayn left," Liam said, after a long time. He clicked his phone off and leaned so his elbows were on his knees and he was looking at Niall intently. "It won't be like, all the sudden, we're gone. We'll still see each other."

"Don't worry about it, Payno, you're going to go grey."

"I mean it," Liam said, so earnestly, as if saying everything out loud made it true. "My mum expects you at our place for Sunday dinner at least once a month."

"And what about James?" Louis asked, speaking up for the first time since they'd gotten on the bus. He was sitting on the couch, had lifted Harry's feet onto his lap.

Niall frowned. "What about him?"

At the same time, Liam said, "shut up, Tommo." Then he looked at Niall. "James is going to be at the show tonight, right?"

"Yeah. And we're going out after." Niall still didn't know why. James Corden had called him two weeks before and asked to see him, alone, after the show. Niall had been trying not to think about it ever since. A part of him still worried that his friends would realize he wasn't worth the time, that his neediness and complaining would annoy them sooner rather then later, and when One Direction ended he'd wake up and realize he had nothing and no one, that this had all just been a wonderful dream.

"Good." Liam nodded and looked back down at his phone.

The day was long and busy. So many people wanted a word with them about the hiatus, and between interviews were the other things. There were two kids, one Make-A-Wish had found, one Niall had found, who were young and dying and wanted to meet them, and it wrecked the band every time to have to many people use their dying with to come see them, and they tried to make it nice for them but there was no getting around the fact that these kids had terminal diseases. It was Louis this time who took it the hardest, hugging both girls and then leaving the room to smoke on the inclosed porch, and Niall stood with him and breathed deep because these particular cigarettes always reminded him of Zayn.

Then there was gym time and Liam cut himself on the door jam and everyone was just getting over dealing with the blood when James showed up at the last radio interview Niall and Louis were doing in a hallway backstage.

Niall got up to hug him, always a little awkward at first. He never knew when people wanted to be hugged. The girls he understood, because they were under the impression that he was a celebrity, but James practically had them in loco parentis. When they first moved to London, Louis's mum had asked if the older man could keep an eye on them, and there'd been many a night when Louis and Harry would fall asleep and Niall would chat with James over tea and cookies. James was the first person to see his scars, running a hand over the puckered skin. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore." Niall said, which may have been too honest.

And there was that time when they were over at James's and Harry and Liam were roughhousing and Niall had been pushed into a lamp. He'd watched it fall, the beautiful glass cover shatter, and he fell to his knees next to it.

"Niall," Liam began. Niall an Liam had bunked together at X-Factor and Daddy Direction knew, at that point, most about Niall.

"I can mend it," Niall said, quietly. "I can mend it." James came in from the kitchen, startled at the noise, to Niall raking his fingers through the glass, his quiet certainty. "Or replace it, James. I promise."

His hands were bloody. Harry and Liam pulled him to his feet. When James grabbed Niall's wrist to see how bad the cuts were, Niall flinched.

Here, at the end of One Direction, James held him tight. He was a good hugger. "You all right?"

Niall allowed himself to put his head on James's shoulder. Very, very quickly, and then he pulled away. "Are you?"

James had been in America for the better part of a year, hosting a late night comedy show. One Direction had already been on it once, the first interview after Zayn left, and were going to go back in a couple weeks for a rap-up.

"Fine. Just fine. Just making sure we're on for dinner." James kept a hand on Niall's shoulder. He was like Liam that way, always having to hold on to you.

Louis came up behind Niall. "I thought I was your favorite, James!"

"You're a rather close second," James only pulled away from Niall to hug Louis.

"Can I talk to you?" Louis asked, already steering the older man away in that forceful way of his. "We'll be right back, Annie!" Louis tossed over his shoulder. Then they were out the door.

Niall had nothing left to do but wander back stage. They were just starting to really gear up for the lights and the screams and there was that flutter just below his diaphragm. Harry used to get sick, used to have to be coaxed off the bathroom floor by a patient, petting Louis. But that was years ago. X-Factor years ago.

(what was James talking about with Louis?)

And sometimes Niall couldn't see how far they'd come until he saw new kids on the block. 5 Seconds of Summer was his particular favorite, the young Aussies brash and brave and tight-knit as One Direction were, they'd fit into the tour like a puzzle piece no one knew was missing. He'd been in the bathroom, hand on Luke's back as the youngest puked into an open toilet.

(what were they talking about that Niall couldn't be involved in?)

He put a hand on his chest and felt the beat of his hard-beating heart, opening the door to their dressing room to find Harry in there, FaceTiming his sister. "Sorry," Niall muttered, backing out of the room.

"Niall!" Gemma squealed. "Please come talk to me. My brother can't seem to manage a pace faster than twenty words a minute. You know I'm coming down to see you at the end of the week. It'll be like a big family reunion."

Harry handed the phone over, pushing his hair back and coughing into a closed fist. Niall put a hand on his bandmate's arm. They all knew he was sick. There was little Niall could offer. Louis brought the tea and Liam brought the sympathy and Niall could only bring solidarity.

(surely they had to finish talking by now. and what was with James's little look at him? were they talking about Niall?)

Harry put his head on Niall's shoulder and Niall chatted to Gemma, who had all the answers and stories Niall had always imagined a big sister would have. The butterflies disappeared.

After the show - after Niall had spent the evening trying to wring answers out of Louis - Niall grabbed a shower back stage while the others headed to the hotel. He'd imagined walking over to the restaurant, the cool autumn air brushing his shoulders, tipping his head back and seeing the moon. He imagined meeting James for drinks in a life in which they both weren't famous. Then he slipped into a tank top, drying the ends of his hair as he followed Alberto to the car.

The restaurant was fancier than Niall was expecting, but no one said a word about his casual attire, leading him upstairs to a tucked-away corner. James was there - obviously - but Niall was surprised to see Julie, who rarely stayed up this late, and was even more surprised to see Max dozing at the table, the four-year-old perking up at the side of Niall. "Hi Ni-Ni!"

"Hey, Maxy," Niall reached out a hand for a fist-bump. "You're up late."

"I got special permission," the kid said, importantly. "Did you bring Loueee!?"

Max was obsessed with Louis, who was great with kids, rough-housing and supporting them at turns, and as soon as Max saw Louis gliding around on his old skateboard, the Doncaster lad had become Max Corden's personal hero. "Not this time. You're stuck with me."

"You're good too," Max assured. Niall was always surprised to see a mini James in Max. The same gentle face. The urge to comfort.

Julie stood up to hug him, pressing a kiss to the side of Niall's head, and Niall realized that Carey was there, too, the baby wrapped in a sling around her mother's neck. And Niall smacked his own forehead. "I forgot her birthday present! I have it, too! Packed up in me things." He peered fondly at the infant. "A year's an important thing."

He turned to James, still a little nervous from being left out of the conversation earlier. But James stood so quickly he bumped the table, nearly tipping Max's water. James hugged like he may never be able to hold Niall again, long and secure. "I'm glad you're here."

"Course," Niall sat, sparing a glance for Alberto, who stood unobtrusively near the room's only entrance. "Can never sleep properly after a show, and Harry's sick. Better for me to get away, so he can sleep."

"You two sharing a room again?" James said, eyes twinkling.

Niall blushed. Ever since Liam and Sophia split, all four of them had crammed into one room. Girlfriend-less-ness made them feel young again, and even the space where Zayn had been was filled now with time and the new album, and the four talked about the things they used to dream of, the adventures they'd been on. The girls they'd kissed. The food and friends, the music. They were about to jump into their future, but it was too scary, and they were too young, so they dwelled instead on the recent past.

"Us four sharing a room," Niall admitted, sheepishly. "Louis's even deigned to sleep under a ceiling. I think we're missing each other already, and there's still two months to go."

Julia smiled a mother's smile, and Niall had to look away. They talked about the tour and the kids and James's show and America until the food came. Max's movements got more and more tired. And James cleared his throat.

"Niall," James began.

He set his cup down, taking in a deep breath. James had found out something unsavory about his childhood. James wanted nothing more to do with Niall, couldn't keep his young family around such a person. Whatever he said, Niall promised himself, No matter what it is. Accept it. Don't make excuses. And thank him for everything.

"Damn," James muttered, and Niall felt his hands shake. "I really had this all planned out."

"You're doing great," Julie murmured, patting his hand.

"You're a terrible liar," James said, his characteristic grin flitting across his face. "Niall. I've - well - we've known you for five years." James looked suddenly very serious. "And over those years, you have become quite dear to us - Julia and I. Max. You're our friend, but I hope - I was hoping, Niall, that we can be more special than that. I hope you won't think it's too - presumptuous - but I've been hoping - we've been hoping - that you would consider letting us adopt you."

Niall looked at his plate. He couldn't speak, couldn't begin to react.

"Niall, love," Julia rushed in, "if you don't want to, for whatever reason, we understand completely. It's a lot to spring on you. If you say no, it won't change the way we feel about you. You're always welcome to our home and in our lives. We won't be angry, I promise." She touched Niall arm and he had to work hard not to flinch. "Do you want some time to think?"

He didn't realize he was standing until he already was. "I thought," he stammered, looking at Max, who was looking back at him with a sleep-static expression. "I mean. There's nothing I want more. Orphans - we dream of being adopted. Dream of it every night. But I thought. James. I thought you were going to tell me you don't want me coming round anymore."

"Darling," Julia said, her voice so gentle. James looked dumbfounded. "Why would you ever think that?"

"I'm sorry." Niall backed away. Alberto put a hand on his shoulder and Niall jumped two feet into the air. "Thank you for dinner, James, but I have to - I have to go."

"You can think about it," James reiterated, his voice hoarse as if he'd just remembered how to use it. "You can take all the time in the world. We love you."

"Time," Niall repeated. "Yes. More time."

He turned and sprinted out of the restaurant.

It wasn't until he was int he car that he was crying. Big, heaving sobs. Alberto sat at the steering wheel, looking at him in the rearview mirror. "The lads will murder me if I bring you back into the room crying like that."

Niall tried to stop the hiccuping sobs, his face buried in his hands. He couldn't alarm the hotel staff, the girls who were probably still gathered outside the door. "I'm o-o-okay. I'm sorry. I'm fi-fine."

He took a deep breath. Why would James ask him to do that? In the middle of a restaurant, nearing midnight, why would James tease him with the only thing he'd ever wanted?

He repeated that when he finally got to the hotel, upstairs into the waiting embraces of his boys' arms. He sat in their room, Liam squeezing him tight as Harry kneeled in front of him. Louis was getting the tea. "Why do you think he was teasing you?" Louis called from near the kettle.

"Why would he want - all the sudden - why would he want to take me on? I'm twenty-two. I'm - fine. I'm totally fine."

Louis set the cup down on the side table. "When you say 'all the sudden...'"

"He's never asked before! And we've got this." He gestured between the four of them. "And he just gets me out in public, yeah, and - fucking hell - I just ran out of there. I hope no one saw. I don't think anyone saw. And he just -"

"Nialler," Harry spoke up, all big eyes and too-gentle words, "he's asked before."

Suddenly, Niall remembered it. Years ago. Before the first single. Back when they went over James's still-bachelor apartment to let off some steam and ask advice, back when James practically babysat them. They were talking about the wedding, all of them playing grown-ups for the occasion, talking about centerpieces and seating arrangements as if they knew what anything about it. Harry and Louis sitting on one small chair, laughing about all the different shades of white that existed in the world, Liam sat very still on the couch with Zayn fast asleep on his shoulder. Niall rinsing the plates and glasses out of habit and suddenly James was there, a reassuring proper adult. _Well, do you want a family?_

Niall scrubbed a hand up his face, the mug shaking in his grip. "He - he really wanted to -"

"More than once," Louis said. "I told him, today. I told him he needed to be more clear. That he needed to show you how much he wanted you in his family."

Niall gaped. "You were talking about me?"

Harry heaved a great sigh and ended up coughing. Liam pounded him on the back and turned his sympathetic brown eyes to Niall.

Louis had less sympathy. "Jesus Annie. If you want to -"

"Don't call me that," Niall said, but the words were deflated. He'd stopped protesting against the nickname, learning quickly that if you didn't put up a fight with Louis, he'd move onto something else. And the name had always been affectionate, as intimate as Liam calling him Irish and Harry calling him Neil and Zayn calling him babes. It was their thing.

"James isn't like those other families!" Louis cut in. "He's not doing this for money. He loves you. He's always loved you."

The evidence of that was undeniable. Whenever he could, James would come to the family things, so Niall would have someone exclusively for him. When they filmed This Is Us and the mums went to Madison Square Garden, James was there with them, his usual sincere, enthusiastic self. Not that the other mums would ever make Niall feel left out. They all extended invitations for breaks and holidays, stopping by or sending flowers when Niall was laid up in hospital for his knee. It was just that James went the extra mile, making Niall feel not like a treasured guest but as part of the household.

Niall blinked quickly. "Damnit."

"It's all right." Liam said. "You'll talk tomorrow. Get it all sorted out. Go lay down, Hazza. Nialler, you go next to him. Dad always says that if all else fails, take a nap."

And so Niall did.

He woke up when Harry shifted four hours later. "Don't go to the gym, mate, you're sick."

"Only be more sick if I let myself go," Harry pointed out, his voice fuzzy and muted from sleep and sickness.

"Let yourself go," Niall scoffed. On the next bed, Liam and Louis were dead to the world, Liam's arm slipped over Louis's chest as if the older, smaller boy was something precious. "Get to bed, I'm calling a doc when we wake at a decent hour."

Usually Harry would protest, but it was testament to how sick he felt that he flopped back to bed. "James call?"

"Dunno. Phone's dead. Probably wants nothing to do with me, you know, for a little while."

"You don't give him enough credit," Harry mumbled, turning on his side and curling into Niall like they were young again, and they were the same size.

"You're going to get me sick."

Harry shook his head. "No, really. You don't see it, because you never got the proper family you deserved. You think you owe everyone, like, bits of you, and you can't fathom, like, unconditional love." Harry frowned. "I'm not making sense."

"No, you're right. I'm not cut out for a family."

"You deserve everything."

"You're a very lucid sick person."

Harry squirmed so his head was on Niall's shoulder and the blond boy hoped that after all his time he was immune to anything Harry might carry. "You know that even if you say no, he'll still love you. We'll still love you. There's always - always - room for you wherever I am."

"Okay," Niall said easily. He'd been told that before. By Sister Mary Angela, before he aged out of the nunnery. By his best mate at school, a timid, lanky boy called Sean who was adopted and spirited away. By girls and men. By Zayn.

Harry squeezed with all the strength the sick boy had. "I wish I could make you believe me," he murmured, and fell asleep.

Niall wished he could believe him, too.

He waited until Harry was asleep before extracting himself, carefully, and plugging his phone into one of the omnipresent charges. He hummed to himself in the shower, and at first he thought he didn't know the melody until it solidified into the tune of "She Looks So Perfect." His phone was at 40% and he had the need to call someone, anyone, and the best part about having international friends was that he wouldn't be waking them up. Hopefully.

Ashton picked up on the second ring. "Hey, man! Congratulations!"

"Does everyone know?" Niall sighed, padding around the hallway outside the bedroom. His knee hurt in a vague way.

"Harry's a lousy secret keeper. I'm glad James finally asked you. Now you're going to have to take care of yourself. And you get to be a big brother!"

"I didn't say yes." Niall cut in, before the Aussie could keep rambling. "I ran away. I didn't say anything."

There was silence, and Niall wondered if he listened hard enough, would the static sound like Australia? "I'm sorry," Ashton said, after a pregnant pause. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Niall swiped under his eyes and sat, cross-legged, against the wall.

So they didn't talk about it. They talked about the song clips 5sos had been sending him on a regular basis. They talked about jet lag and Aston's sister's first boyfriend. They talked until the sun was up, and there were things to do. People to make amends with.

Niall expected to have a message from James, but none came, and morning faded into afternoon.

Harry disappeared with a doctor around three, and Louis disappeared with him, his worry coming out in rapid-fire jokes and song lyrics and anger. Liam was gesticulating and talking, still.

So he was left with his own thoughts. About the families who had come out of the woodwork as soon as the world found out Niall was an orphan, which was during Judge's Houses on X-Factor. Simon and Niall had talked about it on camera a day after Simon had talked to him about it off camera. "You were left as a baby," he stated, in that flat tone, the two of them talking after One Direction performed together for the first time. "Well, at least there's a blessing. Families will come, Niall, and claim to be yours, but none of them will have proof. Now, about the orphanage...are you all right? Now?"

And Niall had blushed under Simon's scrutiny and mumbled about the nuns. And families had come, as soon as the episode was broadcasted, every one of them claiming things about Niall, who deliberately kept information back. Like the fact that he was dropped on the stoop of The Sisters of Mercy when he was four hours old, face blue from a scary but treatable heart condition. No one ever mentioned either of those facts, and Niall worked hard on not getting his hopes up.

"Niall?" Liam asked.

"I'm too old for a family," Niall said.

Liam heaved an uncharacteristic sigh, scrubbing a hand over his scruffy cheeks. "So you weren't listening to me?" He didn't sound mad, his voice not even rising past normal talking level. "You know, you're not the only one with a problem right now."

Niall blinked, and frowned. "You're right. I'm -"

"No," Liam took in a huge breath. "I'm sorry. I was just wallowing about Soph again, and you're debating a major life decision." He smiled a small smile. "You never outgrow needing a family is my opinion. You most of all."

"Yeah, but why me most of all? There's hundreds of orphans all over, on the streets and in terrible places, and I'm - I"m fine! I've seen the world. I have more money than I know how to spend! I -"

"This whole time," Liam cut in. "Since the beginning. What do you think we are." He gestured in the space between them.

Niall frowned. "Band mates. Best friends. You know that."

"I love you boys as family. Maybe more." Liam stated, seriously. "You've seen me at my best and worst. I can give you my heart and you won't fucking break it."

"Oh, Liam, of course -"

"But you have no clue how to do that. And it's sad, Niall, that you've been betrayed and left so many times. I don't know how to prove we won't leave you. Even Zayn hasn't really left, because deep, deep down you can't leave family. And you don't know what family is."

Niall swiped at his eyes. "So what? This whole time I've been a shit friend?"

"You've been an amazing friend," Liam soothed. "And we can promise a hundred times that we're brothers and you won't believe it. I don't know how to prove it to you, Ni. And James does. I think you should give him the opportunity to try."

Niall ground the heel of his hand in his eye. "Why's everyone getting so profound now that we're leaving?"

"We're not leaving," Liam said with a smirk. "Haven't you heard? This is what a hiatus feels like."

"Feels like shit," Niall complained. When Liam reached across the table, Niall didn't hesitate to meet him in an awkward top bone-crushing hug.

This time, Niall went to seek out James, hoping to catch the man before he had to go back to the States. So he went to the airport. It took some begging and some eye-batting and a pair of teenage girls squeeling to verify who he was, plus the two hour car ride to get to Heathrow after the show. And there was James, in the third private lounge Niall looked in.

The older man stood up quickly. "Niall! What are you doing here? Are you all right? Everyone -"

"I'm sorry," Niall began. He'd practiced this speech in the car, out loud and revising in his head and texting the boys and asking Alberto about various word choices, and now he was working off the cuff. "I shouldn't have run out on you. I've been hoping someone would ask me that my whole life, and then it happened and I acted like a prat."

"Never." James was beginning to smile.

"I would love to be your - your son. If you'll have me. I just don't know how, okay? So you're going to have to show me."

"You do what you've been doing. What you're always been doing."

"And - I'm going to have my own house, okay? In Ireland. Because I can't give that up. And I'm a hundred percent fine with being here or in America but -"

"Ireland is your home."

"Ireland," Niall agreed, "is one of my homes."

The other passengers in the lounge weren't bothering to hide their curiosity, and someone Niall didn't mind, now that James's grin was ride. "I've never been the father of someone fifteen years younger than me."

"Good," Niall said. "Good. Then we can do this together."

He was smiling, smiling like a child who was told that his parents were coming home after a long, long time. Smiling like he had when he first woke up in the middle of a group cuddle with the boys. Smiling bright as the sun.

_Passengers for Flight 227 to JFK repot to Gate 19. Passengers for Flight -_

"That's you."

James ran a hand over his face, lingering around the eyes. "I'll be back for your last show. Cheering in the parents' section."

And Niall couldn't help himself. He launched at James and clung hard as he cried and cried.


	2. Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only does Niall have to worry about the adoption, but the U.N. asked him to speak about orphanages, and Liam asks if he was inviting Zayn, and Niall doesn't have any answers.
> 
> Or: A happy ending.

_I was walking along looking for somebody, and then suddenly I wasn't anymore._

**\- A.A. Milne**

.***.

In the week before the adoption Niall found himself getting up often at night and going outside and just sitting on the bench on the porch and he would look at the brick path that led up to the house and his own car in the driveway right next to James's and he knew that he could go anywhere in the world that he wanted to, and the knowledge of that freedom was comforting. In just a few days he was becoming someone's son, and he knew that was what was bothering him - that he'd gotten by so long without a father, and he was sure, deep in his heart, that no one in the world wanted him around for a lifetime. Not any girl he'd ever met, not the boys he loved fierce as brothers. Not even Niall liked himself, always, and he doubted that James really knew what a mess he was getting into.

On this particular night James was home, and asleep before midnight. With a show so late he was often away in the evenings, leaving Julie to manage the children on her own, and Niall was often left with the baby who wasn't a baby any longer, warm and damp in his arms, reaching up to pat his hair. Niall thought about letting it be brown again, but worried that Carey wouldn't recognize him if he let go of the blond.

Suddenly the door was open, and Niall had that old thought in his heart, that he was in trouble, that he should flee before he was caught, but he let James sit by his side and for a while neither of them said a word.

"Nialler," James sighed, and Niall ducked his head.

"I'm sorry for always running out."

"It's fine. Everyone does it. Sometimes when I get home, and it's dark, I stop outside my car and try to count the stars." There weren't many in L.A., not as many as in the countryside of Ireland, where sometimes it felt like there wasn't another soul for miles. "What are you thinking about, this time of night?"

Niall swallowed, hard. James had told him over and over and Niall owed him nothing, not money for rent, Nialler, god no; not even his own stories, the ones Niall had given up to the band bit by bit, over the course of years, and they were all young together and mostly knew what it was like to be the last and the least and the whole world against you. Every teenager felt that way.

But Niall felt he needed to pay back James, anyway, and he was shit at lying. So he took a deep breath. "When I was at school I found these mice once and the mother was all grey and tiny and she had these soft, pink babies. I was kind of known for finding strays, anyway, I found a cat with no tail and it lived in the dorm and ate the spiders, but I wanted to protect the mouse so one night I took it outside and I made sure to bring all the little babies but one of the masters at the school saw me sneaking out and he stomped on the mice and he thrashed me."

He said it all in a rush. He hadn't thought of that mouse for years, but she had come back to him in a dream and that was why he woke up in the middle of the night, thinking of her squirming between his hands, his palms sweaty, unlocking the door gingerly and stepping out into cool night. He hadn't any shoes, now or then. Back then there was a year when there wasn't enough and he gave his shoes to a little boy who came in and cried all night. He got a new pair when Sister Mary-Angela came by one day and saw him playing footie barefoot.

James said: "That horrible." Then they sat for a while and he said: "Did you get thrashed often?"

James had seen the scars one day and Niall had given him the story bit by bit, but James still asked, often, as if nothing could be worse than the belt. "Not as often as some. I got thrashed when I ran away one night. And for singing, sometimes. I'd sing at night to the other boys. Irish traditional, you know. And, um, I'd get thrashed if I didn't speak English. Cuz all the orphanages in Ireland sort of teach the babies Irish Gaelic as a first language? I didn't start to learn English until I was five or six. And it was sort of a secret language. Something like a thousand people in all the world can speak it fluently. I guess most of them are orphans."

"Did it hurt?" James pressed.

Of course it hurt. Nothing worse than a belt on your skin from a hand that didn't care either way if you lived or died, and it was never that dire but just knowing that it wouldn't matter one whit to the world made Niall cry every time, which made the blows harder.

James took a deep, shuddering breath. Niall hadn't meant to say that aloud, all at once. He felt bad for making James cry. James had a soft heart. He cried, sometimes, at commercials on tv.

"You need to put that in your speech, Nialler. The whole thing. The mice and the Gaelic and everything. If you feel up for saying it. I think it matters."

Maybe that's why he was awake, Niall mused. The speech.

Someone from the UN had reached out to him. The United Nations. An actual governing organization wanted to know what he had to say on the subject of orphanages. There were apparently a lot of bad ones, not just in Ireland but in Cambodia and Sri Lanka and all over, and Niall was high profile enough for people to tune in to his speech and he was white so people would listen and he'd actually been there, so someone asked him to talk about his experiences, and he'd agreed.

That was in New York, on Friday. And then the adoption at the court Monday morning, just after.

"I don't know," Niall said, as he had been saying for months now. "It's not like all orphanages are terrible. The Sisters of Mercy were my mothers for a long time."

"I know they were, but..."

"And - and they cared about me. And it wasn't like the school was terrible, we had three meals and time to play and stuff, but..."

"But."

Niall stole a look at James for the first time. The older man (Christ the man who was going to be his father in one week) wore a large, holey shirt to bed, and Niall wondered if he woke up just to see if Niall was all right. He probably did. The thought made Niall's heart feel too big for his body. "I think," Niall ventured, "that everyone deserves a family. Even temporarily. Even the foster system here in America is better."

"So tell them that." James pressed. "Tell them everything."

Niall shrugged. "I don't think I'm good at talking without a guitar in me hands."

James flung an arm around his shoulder, and Niall was pressed into James's body, head on the other man's shoulder, and they looked down the walk at one very early firefly, blinking on and off. "You're going to be just fine. You're going to be great. A bunch of politicians has nothing on American paparazzi, right?"

.***.

At the airport on Thursday he talked to Liam. The lads were supposed to be flying in soon. It was a small party, for the adoption, but he needed them there, and he didn't even have to ask, they'd just told them they were coming. He was starting to realize, after living with James, how much like family these boys already were. "So you'll be getting on the plane with Lou? Like, actually physically with him? Wait, you two together will just be twice as late. Can I talk to your mum Payno?"

Liam laughed, hand messing with his hair, probably looking at himself on the tiny front-facing window of FaceTime. "First of all we are fashionable when we're late."

"Yeah, Liam, I did watch the Brits."

"And we were fashionable! But, yeah, we've got my mum and dad and Louis's mum coming on our end, and Freddie can't fly so I guess Carey's the youngest again. Have you talked to Harold yet?"

"No, I haven't his number." He'd sent Harry two emails but knew that the youngest was booked solid and probably spent his time at home sleeping, not sifting through his personal account.

Liam grinned, "Louis will have it."

"That's what I'm betting. Are you seeing him today?" The two had been writing together, a habit they couldn't seem to break, though Niall suspected that Liam dropped by often this particular week because Louis had the baby and Liam liked to hold babies, liked to rock them to sleep.

"I'll text it to you," Liam confirmed. "How you feeling, Nialler?"

"About what? The actually very important speech I'm giving tomorrow or the adoption?" He was in one of those exclusive lounges but he whispered this line, anyway.

"Both. Mostly the adoption." Liam smiled wanly. He was on a couch or a bed, and drew his knees up so he could rest his chin between them, and Niall remembered that they were still very young. "You deserve this, you know. You deserve everything."

Niall blinked, suddenly. "Thanks, Payno. You're getting in Sunday, right?"

"We're all assuming it's like a bachelor party or something. It's been a while since I've properly been out."

"Because you're old and boring."

Liam made an indignant noise about being not even a month older, and there was a woman's voice calling, and he said, hurriedly, "You'll do great Ni, good luck with the speech."

"Get me Harry's number!"

"I will, I will," Liam was getting up, and said a quick goodbye, waving, and then, nothing.

Niall slumped. He hated flying. One time, last year, before the hiatus, he'd said to an interviewer who asked them what they were going to do over the break that he would learn to ride a motorcycle. Drive a boat. Why not. For a long time Niall had suspected they were too young to be caged in the belly of a mechanical bird.

He rubbed at his eyes. James was flying to New York at one in the morning and would be flying back to LA right after Niall's speech, already leaving the show in capable hands on Monday in order to beam at Niall all day, probably, and Niall felt suddenly embarrassed, as he often did whenever he really looked at how many people were going out of the way to make him happy.

His phone vibrated, from Liam, and Niall thought wow he got Harry's number fast but instead he turned it over and there were just two characters: **Z?**

It had taken a year and an album and the stadium tour and the adoption and the speech and the new family but somehow Niall managed to forget, at least this week, about Zayn. And why not, he reasoned. Why not forget about him. Liam may still count him as one of the band, but Harry certainly did not, and Niall was on Harry's side and Louis was somewhat on Liam's side and it was one of those things that they just didn't talk about, Harry unable to keep an uncharacteristically ugly look off his face, Liam unable to plead that Zayn was not guilty.

And it wasn't like the adoption was a secret. James had an hour a night and since the beginning of the year had been unable to go a whole show without mentioning Niall in some way. It got the point where Reggie and any guest would laugh when they got anywhere near a subject that could possibly involve children, and James would happily say, as if anyone didn't know, that he was going to be getting another son.

So it should have been Zayn to reach out. For all of it. When they were dealing with the shit of his departure and they had the Real Meeting and then, after, the meeting with just the four of them and there had been a vote about whether or not they would even continue this thing. After the Twitter fiasco, after the baby. After everything it should have been Zayn to break radio silence with an olive branch.

He said as much to Harry, who he FaceTimed once he walked into Olly Mur's New York apartment, Olly pretending that they were going to be domestic by cooking when they both knew they'd spend the night in bars and shout at each other to talk and stumble home at a reasonable hour, like 2 or 3, because Niall had important shit to do tomorrow, damnit, but it was only 6 and Niall let Olly make him pasta and meat sauce and he finally got Harry's number as they talked about Niall's single that he'd put out over the summer and his new label and the loneliness he felt on stage, and he put Harry on speaker and all the shit came out.

Harry nodded, yawning, one hand going up to brush hair out of his eye except he had no hair anymore, and still seemed to be getting used to it. "I'm with you. He's the one who screwed us over. You shouldn't have to deal with his shit. It's like inviting your ex to your wedding."

"He won't even come," Olly pointed out, dumping fancy-looking pasta into a boiling pot. "I say take the high road. No way will he fly from wherever the fuck he is to be the black sheep at the party."

"You sound like Liam," Harry said, his voice tinny over the phone. "He's always for the highroad. Remember when Louis would punch him whenever he mentioned Zayn?"

Niall nodded. "Really?" Olly said.

"Oh yeah," Niall said for Harry, who was eating while they talked. "I told you about that game we played when we first started One Direction, right, where Louis would come up with the craziest words and we had to work them into interviews."

"We kept score for years. Literally years. And Liam was, like, infuriatingly good at it," Harry said between mouthfuls of curry.

"So we did the reverse after Zayn left. No ultimate winner, just one ultimate loser, and Liam lost a lot. Couldn't stop mentioning Zayn if his life depended on it. We only stopped punching him because he looks like a sad rabbit when we thinks someone's being mean to him."

Harry laughed, doing that thing where he flipped his hair back and then started to straighten it out again, and it still looked super cool without any hair, the prick. "It's up to you, anyway, Ni, but I say that one day there will be a day for highroads but it is not this day."

Niall put his elbows on the counter, watched Olly sprinkle in some more garlic. "You sound tired, Hazza."

"Since when were we not tired?" But Harry smiled, like he always smiled, like he was on top of the fucking world. "I'll fly in Sunday and we'll have a proper lads night. You in Olly?"

"Of course. How's the movie, Haz?"

"Wet. I will never not be tired and I will never, ever be dry."

Niall tried to laugh but Harry's voice made it sound like it might be true. "Maybe some California sunshine can help that."

"Why do we need sunshine, Ni? We have you."

.***.

The security at the UN was extreme even by Niall's standards, and he'd been poked and prodded all over the world, but James was there and had a way of making everything seem like a grand old time and he even had the security guys laughing before they went deeper into the building. Niall took out his phone and looked at the Good Luck messages there, everything from Twitter mentions from the Irish Prime Minister to a link to an article from UNICEF to texts from Simon Cowell and Julie, who would be his mother in four days. Then he turned off his phone.

Niall was used to a different scene. Roadies all in black with walkies in their belts, girls with polished lips and bare hips, the smell of food and sweat and excitement, the sound of the screams. And here it was hushed, and everyone was suited, and Niall felt very, very unqualified.

"James," Niall said, quite seriously. "I dropped out of school. I don't belong here."

"You're as smart as anybody. And you sing like an angel." James winked and Niall barked out a laugh. He'd be less nervous if he was singing his speech.

There were people to check in with and he met President Obama, again, and they talked about his daughters which gave James opportunity to mention that Niall was going to be his son and Niall elbowed him in the ribs and blushed when the president noticed and laughed at his embarrassment.

And then the general assembly started and as the room cleared out there was one person who stayed behind, smartly dressed in traditional whites and blacks with her coif firmly in place. "Sister Mary!" Niall couldn't help his shout and was shushed by nearly everyone, including Sister Mary-Angela, as he ran across the room and hugged her. He didn't remember her feeling so frail.

"My brave boy," the nun patted Niall rhythmically, then held him at arm's length. "You look healthy, and strong. I think the L.A. sun is trapped under your skin."

"Only until I go back to Ireland, Sister. I'm sure it'll be nice and grey for me there."

"You like the grey."

"Aye," Niall croaked.

He felt, rather than saw, James come up behind him and he didn't even have to worry about this being awkward at all; James was incapable of being anything but sincere. "Sister Mary-Angela, it is such a pleasure to meet the woman who raised my son."

It was the first time he'd ever said the word like that. Effortlessly. And Niall pressed the heel of his hand into one eye.

The tiny Irish nun took James's outstretched hand. "It is an honor to meet his father. I always prayed for Niall to get the family he deserved."

Niall found his voice. "I'm fine, sister. Bhí saol gaolta agam."

"Tá gach rud tuillte agat." Sister Mary-Angela rubbed Niall's arm and he realized with a start that she was crying. She never cried, not even when she gave him shoes for his mangled feet. "I predict a fine speech. Our Niall's all grown up."

"He is," James agreed and pushed him, gently, into the other room.

.***.

"I don't remember a damn thing," Niall said to the boys on Sunday once they were all there, Liam and Louis late as predicted. After Louis showed everyone the requisite baby pictures and Harry said one or two things about his co-stars that made everyone gasp and after Liam gave everyone a hug as if he had to touch them all before they melted away, and they all settled down on the lawn by the pool or on chairs or, like James's sisters, splashing each other from the water, everyone's heads swiveled to Niall and they asked him about the U.N. "I think it went well."

"It did," Julie said, definitively. "It was heartbreaking."

Niall ducked his head and Harry, out of habit, put a finger under his chin. You are not less then anyone, was one of Harry's sayings, and he'd gotten into the habit of touching their chins when they looked down. Even if they felt like hiding, he made them look up. Louis called sayings like these "Buddha Moments." And Louis must have noticed the interaction and so spoke up from where he was pouring lemonade for everyone absent-mindedly, "You always forget what happened, though, right? Like, we all do it."

"I don't," James said. "I think my biggest fear is forgetting someone's name and so I'm on high alert all the time."

They all laughed. Liam chipped in: "But Louis's right. Like, you remember getting up there. You remember when something went wrong, like, you forgot the words or there was a rude sign or whatever, but you don't remember actually, like, doing anything." He looked around for more backup, but Niall's friends, their friends, from the music industry wouldn't fly in until tomorrow, most having Sunday night something to do.

"It really was incredible," Harry said, and Niall caught Louis's eyes, and Louis mouthed Buddha and Niall snorted his laughter. "Like, I didn't know about the mice. You told us everything else. But that was - sad. I wish I could think of another word but..."

Niall patted Harry's arm. "I didn't remember until the other night. It's not like it's all there at the front of my head like, I don't know, PTSD or something. After the band and everything sometimes it doesn't feel like it happened to me."

Harry nodded, and a silence fell over the group that was interrupted when Max jumped noisily into the pool.

.***.

It was the four of them and they went to two clubs that weren't super exclusive because they all knew the night would be over as soon as anyone took a picture of all four of them so they went places that they thought no one would care about One Direction and for a while they danced and had many toasts and shots and they started telling stories, regular stories, about recording and writing and damn, Niall, how did we forget This Town? And another round of shots for the single, and when are you going to promo it? And, we should all totally release something at the same time and No Lou that's a terrible idea. And Harry getting up to dance and then they all got up and danced in a group because no one was going home with a girl tonight and Louis put his hands on Harry's waist, just for a moment, and Liam twirled Niall and they moved on and they got tacos and went to the next club where they had to shout over truly shitty music to talk about babies and girls and boys and their friends and families and Louis's mom was sick, cancer, and they all downed another shot and this time it was Harry dragging Louis out to the dance floor and pretending to grind on him and Liam laughed and Niall had time to think that this was maybe dangerous when some security - they hadn't brought their own - clapped him on the shoulder and they left when Niall looked at his phone and saw the Larry picture and Harry blew kisses at security and they went out into the night that was cool for L.A. after the heat of the club and Niall shivered and Liam threw an arm over his shoulder and they slowed and let Louis and Harry take the lead, both turning off their phones, hands around hips, and all four threw their heads back and looked up at the lights blinking and flashing like stars.

.***.

"Someone had a good night," James teased. They'd slept in Niall's room. All four had started on the bed but Louis stole the blankets and made a fort and so they'd fallen asleep on the floor. "You know as your father I can start a curfew." James grinned.

"Not my father yet old man." But Niall smelled breakfast, and Liam was pulling on trousers, and on their way out of the room Niall gave James an enormous hug.

The mums had made breakfast and Max got Louis to show him some tricks on the skateboard. While he was outside all the boys talked to Jay, who talked about the cancer matter-of-factly, and when Louis came in for breakfast and heard what they were talking about he went outside to smoke and halfway through his third cigarette a ginger haired man got out of a car and then started the parade.

It was a caravan that went to the courthouse, everyone clapping Niall on the back and James thought of everything and there was some security around the courthouse and everyone tried to keep their voices down but it didn't really work and everyone talked over each other and swapped stories and Ed had brought a bottle of champagne that they drank while the judge finished traffic court.

"Speech!" Olly yelled, and then whispered. "Oops. Speech, Nialler."

"Speech!" Louis echoed, and Liam elbowed him.

"Which speech?" Niall teased. They'd been trying to get him to recap his U.N. address all day. "Four score and seven years ago..." The three members of 5 Seconds of Summer who had been in the country stole hats from various people and reenacted the "You Can't Handle the Truth" scene from _A Few Good Men_ but they forgot most of the lines and it turned into a dueling match with pencils as swords and Niall saw James's parents actually choking with laughter.

And then the judge finally came out and said that he preferred _My Cousin Vinny_ for its court scene and he ushered them all into the courtroom. And the whole thing took about twenty minutes. And then it was over.

They all went back to James's house where a catering crew had come in with hot plates. Niall lifted off one of the covers and saw a roast and, next to it, potatoes, and, next to that, Zayn.

Harry rolled his eyes and walked away and Zayn's face fell. He'd gotten thin. Niall wondered if it had gotten bad again, the pressure and the anxiety and the fear. But he was there and he had a present tucked under one arm and Niall took a step forward and Zayn took a step forward and Zayn kissed Niall on the cheek, quickly, and the gesture felt very, very sweet.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Michael Clifford yelled, and someone thought to start the music and literally everyone in the tent groaned at James's idea of a joke. "What Makes You Beautiful" was up first.

"I don't want to ruin anything," Zayn said, a wry smile about his lips as Louis shouted the words. "I just couldn't not be here, you know. I know you always wanted this. And, I just wanted to say, I'm so happy for you."

The gift was pushed into Niall's arms and it was beautifully wrapped, dark blue paper with silver through it and Niall opened it as Liam clapped Zayn on the back.

The book was a lovely first edition, bound in red and stamped in gold. "Why Winnie-the-Pooh?" Louis asked, while Niall still stared at the binding.

"'S the first book I really remember me da reading to me, you know?" His accent hadn't changed, Niall thought, and he thought, too, that maybe they could fix this hole between them with patchwork and time and beautiful things. "I thought - I know you're not a kid Ni but I thought you could read it to, like, Carey, and like James could read it with you and it's like." Zayn bit his lip. "Like a circle. Being closed."

And that's what they were, Niall thought, as someone pushed Harry over to their little circle and Harry and Zayn kicked the ground and murmured to each other and then had something like a hug, and Liam took that as an opportunity for a group hug unlike any they'd had in over a year, and Louis tickled Niall and they all sprang apart, and James came over with Max who jumped into Niall's arms and there was another group hug, but with Carey and Julie and Max and James this time, and they ate and danced and drank and Niall got hugs from his new grandparents and stories from his new aunts and he watched Zayn follow Liam like a lost puppy and no one said anything about it and Ed got Zayn champagne which he held gingerly and there were more toasts and Niall was put onto shoulders and thrown into the pool and James rolled out a piano and as the day turned to night they all sang a little and sat around and talked, in different positions, again, on backs and bellies, full with life and good feeling and coffee and tea were passed around and some people said farewell and others stayed, grouped onto couches and nationalities, Australians in the living room and Englishmen in the kitchen and eyelids got heavy and no one could stop saying congratulations.

James pulled Niall aside and gave him a watch, the face beautiful and new, and Niall looked at it with the boys later, unable to sleep, and he let Liam and Louis exclaim over the watch and he let Harry sleep and Zayn read out passages of Winnie-the-Pooh and Niall thought that he would spend his whole life here in this moment where he was utterly, splendidly happy.

'"What day is it?"' Zayn read in the soft light under the pillow fort, the boys sprawled around him.

"It's today," squeaked Piglet.

"My favorite day," said Pooh.'

Harry reached up and pulled Zayn into the nest and the five boys, far from home, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my little sister who always wants the happiest of endings.

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't quit this fandom. For Amanda. It's your favorite. A happy ending.


End file.
